


wake up, fool (this fairytale’s got to end)

by zarahjoyce



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Dark!Jon Snow, F/M, I mean DARK, OR IS IT, Sorry guys, ideas at 2 AM are never good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 02:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahjoyce/pseuds/zarahjoyce
Summary: You’re just confused, sweetling,he said, eyes kind, even sad.Maybe even concussed. You’ll get better soon, I promise.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 39
Kudos: 99





	wake up, fool (this fairytale’s got to end)

_Sansa._

He said her name is Sansa.

She tries saying it with her own mouth. Sansa. _Sansa._ But no matter how hard she tries, she doesn’t feel any spark of recognition when she does.

_Sansa._

_Sansa._

She peers into the mirror. An ugly gash runs jagged at the side of her forehead, now covered by a bandage that he so lovingly put on her. _You’re just confused, sweetling,_ he said, eyes kind, even sad. _Maybe even concussed. You’ll get better soon, I promise._

His touch is meant to soothe, but she can’t help the crawling of her skin when he comes near.

_No._

_No._

_Please don’t._

She sighs. Maybe she _is_ concussed? Maybe she _is_ confused? She turns and moves around her room, going through things he said were hers. He said she likes sewing. Singing. Lemon pies? Does _anyone_ even make lemon pies nowadays? The very thought of eating it is already giving her the heebie-jeebies.

_Sansa._

He said her name is Sansa.

Her head hurts. Maybe she just needs to lie down and—

* * *

_We got married in winter. You wore white; you looked so beautiful in white. Arya and Bran were so very happy – you remember them, right? Marg gave us a trip to the Bahamas for our honeymoon, but you hated the humidity so we barely stayed the whole week. We hid in a hotel nearby and Robb, of all people, found us. And then Theon laughed at us because we kept coming up with excuses why we left Bahamas early and—_

_You remember, don’t you?_

_Sansa?_

No.

_No._

* * *

**No.**

_No I don’t know Arya. I didn’t know that Bran’s lame! I don’t know who Rickon is – is that the name of your dog, the white one? I don’t even like winter and I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to citrus fruits. I don’t remember getting married to _you--

_Jon, please. I don’t think—I don’t think I’m--_

Clarity comes crashing down upon her that very moment.

_I’m not—her. Sansa. I’m not Sansa. I’m—_

Lord but the more she says it, the sadder his kind eyes become.

_I’m not-- God, all this time I’m—_

She doesn’t even notice he’s holding _something_ until it hits the back of her skull.

* * *

He drives down the lonely road, already dreading the part that comes next.

Gods, but everything would be better if Sansa would just _stop running away_ from him.

He glances behind him. This one lasted barely a week before fighting _everything_ and realizing—

_I’m not Sansa. I’m—_

He exhales loudly.

Tomorrow he’ll be back to finding Sansa and helping her remember all they’ve been through – including _him_, the man who loves her above all.

The man who’ll search for his wife wherever she goes - if only to bring her home, to him.

But for now, though—

He’ll have to dispose of the one who does _not._


End file.
